


Crumbs through the ages

by stjarna



Series: Writing Prompts / Drabbles / Requests [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bus Kids - Freeform, F/M, Fluffy, Fun, Jemma's very strict about crumbs, Random & Short, Short, Short & Sweet, Silly, Some bus kids, Writing Prompt, Writing prompt: "You're getting crumbs all over my bed.", it's all very silly, time jumps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 05:58:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8434309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: Jemma is very strict about eating in bed.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lilsciencequeen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilsciencequeen/gifts).



> AgentsofSuperwholocked requested Nr. 16 + Fitzsimmons from [a list of writing prompts on Tumblr](http://the-nerdy-stjarna.tumblr.com/post/152337867554/drabble-challenge).
> 
> The task: Incorporate the phrase “You're getting crumbs all over my bed” into your fic/drabble.
> 
> I hope you like it, AgentsofSuperwholocked!!
> 
> This ficlet was written as a stand alone fic, but could theoretically be seen as a missing scene for [Ghosts That We Knew](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8227618/chapters/18856054) [Like most anything I'm currently writing, 'cause apparently I'm obsessed with the universe I created].

They had come to Jemma’s dorm room to work out a game plan for their chem lab project. Fitz had offered to continue in _his_ room like last time, since it was closer to the lab, but she had _insisted_ on hers, without any clear indication as to the reason why.

He still sometimes couldn’t believe his luck that their professor had paired them up. It had finally given him the opportunity to say something clever enough to make her notice him. But even though their scientific brains complemented each other in almost every aspect and worked in unison, when it came to their personal lives, it seemed that they could not be more different.

Fitz waits awkwardly by the door, his eyes wandering across the meticulously kept room. The bed is made to the point that a quarter would likely bounce off the sheets. Her shoes are neatly lined up by the door. Her desk is organized, and he’s fairly certain that the bookshelf she is standing next to, pulling out various large volumes, is arranged in alphabetical order.

She turns to him, telling him in no uncertain terms, “Don’t just stand there! Find a seat.”

Her tone makes him jump, and he quickly takes two more steps into the room and closes the door. He turns back around and is instantly startled when she shoves a plate under his nose, practically dictating, “Take a biscuit. I made them this morning.”

It doesn’t take much to get Fitz to accept a biscuit, especially one that smells as delicious as these do, but even if it had been a plate full of slugs, he probably would have obeyed.

Jemma turns around to put the plate away and immediately refocuses on her bookshelf. Idly, Fitz walks backwards to her bed and sits down. But as soon as he has taken the first bite, she turns around.

“You stop that immediately!” her stern English voice exclaims, and Fitz stops mid-bite, afraid to even finish chewing what he has in his mouth. “You’re getting crumbs all over my bed!”

Fitz wonders for a moment if her sense of hearing is heightened, specially developed to notice people who would dare to eat while sitting on her bed.

He swallows the half-chewed bite of biscuit and clears his throat. “We wouldn’t have this problem if we had worked on this in my room,” he replies somewhat grumpily.

“ _Your_ room is a mess,” she counters slightly condescendingly, pulling even more books from her shelf. “I wouldn’t even know where to sit.”

“Funny,” he bickers back, “I never have that problem when I—you know— _live there_.”

“Yes, well, _you_ don’t seem to mind living in filth,” she replies snarkily, carrying the stack of books to the bed and carefully placing them next to him. “There’s dirty clothes and candy wrappers everywhere.”

“My room’s not filthy,” he says, his tone notably pouty. “The stuff is perfectly clean… for the most part.”

“Just use a bloody napkin, you Scottish barbarian,” she exclaims and shoves a napkin under his nose.

Glaring at her in annoyance, yet also slightly frightened, he takes the napkin. _From where and most importantly **when** had she even gotten that?_

“Hey,” he counters quietly, clearly annoyed, “no need for [billingsgate](http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/billingsgate)… And certainly no need to drag my heritage into the dirt.”

She takes a deep breath and sighs. “I apologize for my language. But _please_ , use a napkin to catch the crumbs. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Fine,” he replies, waving the napkin she’s already handed him.

* * *

 

* * *

“You stop that immediately!” her stern English voice exclaims, and Skye stops mid-bite, afraid to even finish chewing what she has in her mouth. “You’re getting crumbs all over my bed!”

Fitz, sitting next to Skye in Jemma’s bunk, casually waves a napkin in front of Skye’s nose, grinning widely.

“Welcome to my world,” he whispers, leaning slightly closer to the new addition to the team. “You’ll get used to it. She’s an odd bird, but otherwise really quite extraordinary and fun to be around.”

* * *

 

* * *

“Leopold Fitz! What do you think you’re doing?” she exclaims. “You’re getting crumbs all over our bed.”

“I thought moving in together meant compromising on certain matters,” Fitz attempts to argue, while intuitively reaching for a tissue from the box on his nightstand to catch the cookie crumbs.

“Well, _this_ is _not_ a matter on which we will compromise,” Jemma replies sternly. “I’m _not_ willing to sleep or… have sex with you, with various crumbly and scratchy food remains sticking to my butt. It’s _not_ going to happen.”

“What about non-crumbly foods?” Fitz counters. “Like whipped cream and/or chocolate sauce?”

“Oh,” she replies, surprised. “Well… what exactly did you have in mind?”

Fitz grins mischievously.

* * *

 

* * *

“Wait. You’re eating in bed?” Fitz asks, surprised.

“I have a human being attached to my breast,” she says matter-of-factly, taking another bite of her biscuit while their daughter nurses. “She relies on me staying hydrated and eating adequately.”

“But... you’re getting crumbs all over her,” Fitz observes.

“She’ll survive a few crumbs,” Jemma replies unfazed. “It’ll be like a peeling. She’s easy to clean.”

Fitz smiles, walks to the nightstand and grabs a biscuit from the plate, ready to sit down on the bed next to his wife and daughter. “Does that mean _I_ can eat in bed, now, too?” he asks optimistically.

“Don’t you dare!” Jemma exclaims in no uncertain terms. “You’ll get crumbs all over our bed.”


End file.
